


Wake Up Call

by dizzzylu



Series: Mating Games Submissions [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Rimming, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzzylu/pseuds/dizzzylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Years ago, that shirt would've been long enough for Stiles to maintain a modicum of decency. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Up Call

**Author's Note:**

> Week three's challenge was to pick a kink. I picked clothes sharing. I tried to come up with another title. Really, I did.

It's the smell of bacon that wakes Derek up, blinking bleary eyes at the sun streaming in through the windows. It takes him a minute to place it though, mind shuffling through the fog of sleep to remember where he is and figure out why his arms feel so empty. The sheets next to him are cool to the touch, but the air smells warm and homey; of sizzling bacon and garlic potatoes and dark roast coffee.

He pads downstairs on bare feet, itching at his belly where his sweats cling to his hipbones. Walking into the kitchen feels like pure joy, the room glowing pale yellow all around him. The weather looks perfect through the windows, bright blue skies and endless sun, but Derek's attention is stuck on Stiles at the stove, ignorant, yet, of Derek behind him.

Derek uses the opportunity to take Stiles in, from his ridiculous bedhead to the bruise on his nape, his sleek thighs and knobby ankles. Stiles is wearing the t-shirt Derek had on last night, a navy blue v-neck that looks striking against Stiles' fair skin. Years ago, that shirt would've been long enough for Stiles to maintain a modicum of decency. Now, he's taller, a little broader in the shoulders. Though it'll still flash some collar bone in the front (Derek can picture the sharp blade of it perfectly), it's too short, revealing the swell of Stiles' ass, the creases in his thighs. Soft thin skin that Derek finds himself drawn to.

Stiles moves to the side as Derek pushes off the wall, holding his breath until he can sink to his knees behind Stiles, hands landing on Stiles' hips to steady him. A knife clatters to the counter and Stiles gasps, legs widening on instinct. Derek presses his face to Stiles' back and breathes deep. "Don't move," he murmurs, voice muffled by the cotton.

"Wasn't planning on it," Stiles breathes out on a shudder.

Stiles is warm, here, still smells of come and lube, but his skin pebbles on Derek's exhale, hair standing on end like it's oriented to Derek's pulse. He uses his nose to push the t-shirt up, revealing Stiles' ass. His tongue follows, soft and wet, along the crease until he reaches the dip of Stiles' spine. There, their scents mix, and Derek sucks a kiss to make sure it stays that way. 

He drops back down again, nipping little bites all over Stiles' ass, quick little pinches of skin between his teeth. His hands come up, then, to soothe the stings. Stiles rocks into the touch, whimpering.

They both know what's coming; the first swipe of Derek's tongue over Stiles' hole has them both groaning. Neither of them had the energy to clean up properly last night, so there are still traces of lube for Derek to rub away with his thumb. He tries to be gentle, but Stiles flinches anyway, soft little hurt noises coming from low in his throat. Derek sucks a dirty kiss there, once he's done, keeping his tongue wet and soft, stroking in circles, until Stiles is trembling under his hands.

"Derek," Stiles says, quiet. A whimper. His thighs vibrate from the strain, and Derek can hear the scratch of nails against the countertop. Derek growls and pushes Stiles open that much further, tongue following the perineum to suck each of Stiles' balls into his mouth, one at a time. His thumb rubs carefully at Stiles' hole, slicking through spit to push inside.

It doesn't take long after that, Stiles choking out Derek's name as he gets come all over Derek's shirt. Derek catches him before he collapses and lowers him to the floor. Stiles' face is bright red and warm, and he presses it to the cool tile floor, mouth curved in a pleased grin.

While Stiles catches his breath, Derek eases himself out of his sweats. His hand is warm and sticky, tight at the base, and he's happy to jerk himself off, maybe add to the mess on his shirt, but Stiles makes a grabby hands gesture and that's not something Derek can refuse. 

Stiles can't sit up yet, so Derek stretches out next to him, lets Stiles rise up on an elbow and lean over him. Derek's hand reaches up to wrap around Stiles' neck, thumb resting over his pulse. He tries to hold on, to drag this moment out, but it's too much: the smell of him and Stiles together, the cotton stretched across Stiles' chest, the tight-perfect grip around his cock.

Derek comes with a growl, Stiles kissing him through it. Soft, wet kisses that wreck Derek in all the best ways. Stiles doesn't let go of Derek's cock until Derek starts twitching, and even though he's dangerously over-sensitive, Derek still misses the warmth.

Stiles collapses on Derek, after, as they both work to get their breath back. Even after they've done that, Derek is still reluctant to move. The tile may be hard, but it'll be months before Stiles comes home again, and Derek wants to touch him as much as possible. 

It's Stiles, though, who ruins the moment, mumbling something about burnt potatoes and crispy bacon.

"Your fault," Derek points out, rising to his feet in one easy move.

Stiles shoots Derek an innocent look from over his shoulder. "But it's worth it every time."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [dizzzylu](http://dizzzylu.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


End file.
